


when you believe in things you don't understand

by rlb190



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Peter, Hurt Scott, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Recovery, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:26:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rlb190/pseuds/rlb190
Summary: It doesn’t take long of them to get acquainted with each other’s screams.





	when you believe in things you don't understand

**Author's Note:**

> This is the brain child of binge-watching all the X-Men movies. Scott Summers is never given justice. Plus I think peter nd scott would be buddies. Wrote this in a few crazy days and it's going up at 4 in the morning because I do not sleep. I merely wait.
> 
>  
> 
> it's a one-shot unless I get more inspired.
> 
> title taken from Superstition by Stevie Wonder

 

Look. Learn. Adapt.

 

That's what Peter tried to do. He could recall vaguely learning this during his  _ very  _ short-lived time in the Boy Scouts. He hadn't really done well, as he was much more suited for more less-than-athletic-friendly activities, like playing chess. Chess was nice.

 

_ I could go for some chess right now.  _ Peter thought vaguely to himself as he lay on his back, his lungs burning with each labored breath he took. He stared at the ceiling, a bare cement one with a single light hanging down precariously, swaying gently as if threatening to fall if it were to swing too far one way. But it never did.

 

Peter tried to make some sense of his situation, but in all honesty it was hazy. It seemed like one minute he had been sitting on an apartment rooftop, phone in hand after just having left yet another Happy Hogan, his less than gleeful contact to Tony Star, and the next he was here. This cell, these grey walls and grey ceiling and single led light that somehow made everything seem even more grey. Even his skin seemed grey and he wondered for a brief moment if he had died, before taking in a breath and feeling such a burn rush through him that there was no possible way he could be dead.

 

His lungs hurt to say the least, like he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. But not in a dull, aching way. Like the exact moment you got the wind knocked out of you, he felt that intensely. It was perhaps one of the downsides he had discovered to his powers, his senses were heightened, making the pain he felt much more intense than it should have. Peter felt fine otherwise, if not a bit sluggish. He glanced around the room, looking for anything that he could use to understand where he was. There was some type of speaker-looking thing in the wall, which Peter guessed was the source of the pain in his lungs and his sluggishness. There was a door, made of some sort of heavy metal. There was a sliding door on the bottom of it, but it had no crevices for Peter to try and pry it open. There was a metal sink and metal toilet next to the door on the far left side which Peter was parallel from. There was a blanket in the back left-hand corner, next to Peter’s head.

 

He also noticed a camera in upper right corner, which he promptly flicked off before steeling himself to stand up, leaning heavily on the wall, trying to get up off his feet.

 

_ You got this, Parker. _

 

__ With massive effort, he pushed himself up, leaning on the wall for support, but it was as if he body refused to work properly, his feet and hands not responding to cues that his brain was sending them. He managed to get halfway up the wall before his legs gave up on him and he came down, cursing as he did. So much for adapting. Then, from out of nowhere, there came a voice.

 

“It won’t work.”

 

Peter snapped his head up, looking around, trying to find the source of the voice. It sounded male and young, but a little older than Peter. It also sound sarcastic. Or maybe tired, like all the life had been drawn out from the speaker and he was just talking by using muscle memory.

 

“What?” Peter founded himself asking to the air, still looking around for a moment until he finally spotted it. A vent, very small and almost invisible in the grey lighting, in the back right corner of the small square room. Peter moved towards it, turning on his side so he could face it.

 

“It’s a nerve agent, coming through. You won’t be able to stand.” The person replied, sounding louder through the vent. Peter stared at the vent. All he could see was darkness and metal, not the other person.

 

“How do you know?”

 

The person on the other side sighed. “It’s been awhile. You pick up things. Before you ask, we’re in Nebraska. No, I don’t know how you got here. I don’t know how to get out.”

 

Peter was silent for a moment, contemplating as he processed the person’s words, keeping a hesitant eye on the camera as it watched him lay there

 

“You’re new. You’ll get used to it. The cameras.”

“How did you know I was looking at them?”

 

“You’re not the first person in that room. The fifth this month maybe? Sixth? I lose count. I don’t know if it’s been a month. Maybe. Maybe longer. Maybe shorter. They always go. The screams always go away. What’s your name?”

 

“Peter”

 

The person sighed, breath weak and shuddering. Then the person coughed for a moment before going on.

 

“I'm Scott. Don’t forget your name, Peter. Once you forget your name, you forget it all.”

 

Peter let his mind wander to Tony, vaguely recalling seeing on the news when he was kid about how he had went missing in the Middle East for a crazy amount of time and how it nearly drove him crazy.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Scott didn’t say anything after that for a long while. Peter felt around the vent, around the door, the toilet and sink. There was no way out of there. Peter soon found himself back at the corner vent, facing it, not wanting to say anything, before he finally built up the courage.

 

“Scott?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. I used to keep track. I can’t now.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m blind.”

 

“Oh.”

It was silent again for a long while.

 

“I wasn’t always.”

 

“What?”

 

“Blind.  I used to be able to see. But after my powers-,”

 

“You have powers?” Peter interrupted.

 

Peter could practically hear Scott rolling his eyes.

 

“That’s why you’re here, Peter. You have powers or something, right? A mutation? This is a lab for stuff like that. The last guy was a like a frog or something.”

 

“What can you do?”

 

“You won’t believe me. What can you do?”

 

“I got bit by a spider. Now I can stick to wall s and stuff. Spiderman, you know?”

 

“Never heard of him. Do you shoot webs out of your butt or something?”

 

Before Peter could reply, there was a creaking sound as his metal door opened. Peter didn’t want to turn his head and look at who was there, but he felt a weak tingle go up his spine. Danger was coming.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Scott knew what Peter was about to get into, for the next few days at least. It was like they had done to him. It would be endless, one brain scan over another, biopsies, cerebrospinal fluid extractions. The bone marrow extractions hurt the worst. They would probably take blood. Scott wished all they would do would take blood.

 

He placed his hands along the bulky vice that wrapped around his head to cover his eyes and was only ever taken off when _he_ wanted it to be. 

 

Maybe Scott had lied to Peter about not knowing who was behind all of this.

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t take long of them to get acquainted with each other’s screams.

* * *

 

“So you can’t control it?” Peter asked one day. Was it a day? What were days, even?

 

“No. That’s why I have this thing over my eyes. That’s all I can, do really.”

 

“I can climb up walls.”

 

“I shoot lasers out of my eyes.”

 

And they both smile.

 

* * *

 

There are good days, when the two of them can talk. They talk about movies and sports and cars and trees and the sky and everything except where they are. They even talk about their families. 

 

Peters learns that Scott had an older brother. Scott learns that Peter had an aunt.

 

They both had family.

 

Had.

* * *

 

There are bad days, when either or of them are tossed back into their grey rooms with the grey walls and all they can do is be quiet. The other person talks into that silence, not needing a word back.

They support each other.

 

They smile with each other.

 

But they have never seen each other.

 

Scott can’t see at all.

 

* * *

 

One day, after a very bad day, Scott talks about his life before.

 

He tells Peter about his brother, mostly. He talks about a school he had once gone to, a girl with red hair he once loved, and the day she died. How the building collapsed. How he had woken up here.

 

“I don’t know, Peter. I used to think someone would come looking. I don’t think anyone did.”

 

At this point, Peter doesn’t think anyone is looking for him either.

 

* * *

 

Peter talks about Tony. About Iron Man and the Avengers and how they saved New York. Scott was in his cell for a long time. Before Tony Stark was even found. He was still caught up on that.

 

“They found him? In a cave?”

 

“Yeah. He built the first version of his iron man suit. This metal exoskeleton looking thing.”

 

“Are we in a cave?”

 

“I thought we were in Nebraska.”

 

“I think so.”

 

“I don’t think there’s any caves here.”

* * *

 

All Scott can remember is the color red. 

 

Red like sunsets. Then he remembers the old saying, "Red skies in morning, traveler take warning,". But it doesn't mean much when all of your mornings are red

 

Then he wishes he can’t remember anything at all.

* * *

 

Peter loses track of the days, just like Scott said he would.

 

He forgets things. Like the sound of birds. It bothers him so much, he get so frustrated he can’t remember what sound birds make. Scott can’t remember either.

 

But Peter remembers who he is.

 

His name is Peter Benjamin Parker. He is 15 years old. He lives in Queens.

 

He repeats it to himself. Over and over so he doesn’t forget, staring at those damn grey walls.

 

Every test.

 

His name is Peter Benjamin Parker. He is 15 years old. He lives in Queens.

 

Every needle.

 

His name is Peter Benjamin Parker. He is 15 years old.

 

Every scan.

 

His name is Peter Benjamin Parker.

 

Those damn walls.

 

His name is Peter Parker.

 

Every cut.

 

His name is Peter

 

Every bruise.

 

His name is Peter

 

Every broken bone.

 

His name is Peter 

 

Every test.

 

His name is Peter 

 

Those damn grey walls.

 

Peter.

 

Peter.

 

Peter.

 

Peter. Peter. Peter.

 

It doesn’t even sound like his name anymore.

* * *

 

 

Peter is staring at the vent when the door opens. He doesn’t look. He doesn’t want to look.

 

“Hey.”

 

Peter doesn’t move.

 

“Hey. Kid. You alive?

 

Peter curls into himself. He almost wishes he wasn’t. Almost.

 

“Hey.”

 

God, this was annoying. Peter gives in just for this guy to stop talking.

 

Talking?

 

Wait.

 

Wait.

 

_ Talking? _

 

“Hello?”

 

Shit. The only person he’s ever talked to was Scott. Peter turns over to look at the door.

There in the doorway stands a man in a suit, with blood on his knuckles, sunglasses on his face and a cane in hand.

“What?” Peter muttered. “Who-, just-, what?”

 

“Peter Parker?”

 

“Uh, yes?”

 

Peter is just so confused by the whole thing he just stares. And stares. And stares.

 

“There’s a lot of people looking for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Matthew Murdock went into the State Home for Foundlings, he knew something was wrong at once.

 

Jessica Jones had actually convinced him to go. He owed her a favor. She said she was hired by Stark Industries to find a missing teenager named Peter Parker. A massive company worth billions owned by Iron Man hiring a private detective to find a single kid? Weird.

 

The fact that Tony Stark couldn’t find him? Even weirder.

 

Jones had expressed her uncertainty at this lead. And by that, she called in a favor for Matt and Foggy to go looking in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska because she didn’t want to go herself. She actually called in the favor from Matt, but Matt convinced Foggy to come along while Karen watched the firm.

 

As soon as they walked into the home, Matt knew something was off. It wasn’t long before he had it figured out, underneath the surface of the home where the rooms were boarded off and the gates locked shut, there was a series of complex hallways and rooms.

 

One thing led to another, and soon Matt had taken out Mr. Milbury, the owner of the property who seemed hell bent on keeping Matt out of the underground area.

 

Standing over Milbury, fist aching from the punch he had just thrown, Matt heard it. A heart beat. Slow, quiet. But it was there. 

 

Matt found it, (Foggy trailing behind him, metal chair in hand, ready to strike at a moment’s notice) behind a large metal door.

 

The first he noticed was the smell. It smelled like adrenaline, like fear and blood. Lots of blood.

 

Too much blood.

* * *

 

The next door they opened, Foggy didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

Curled up in the left corner of the room, back against the wall, was a kid. He barely looked alive. Peter, the teenager from the other, was at least able to open his eyes and look around.

 

This kid, he-, he couldn’t do that.

 

Foggy didn’t even think he was alive.

 

The room itself was identical to Peter’s, but this one had tally marks etched into concrete. Thin lines went up and down the room, on the walls, on the floor. Foggy stopped counting at a hundred.

 

Jesus.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire Temple had good days and bad days. The good days were filled with minor injuries, a child who needed a cut looked at from falling on a playground. Or happy reasons people needed her, like a  woman going into labor. Even her side house calls to Murdock’s, where she could patch him up and keep an eye on him where pleasant, when the could sit down on his couch and just have a conversation. 

 

But there were bad days as well. When she had to stop Murdock from bleeding to death or treat a victim of a mugging or a sexual assault. Today seemed like one of those bad days..

 

Peter sat quietly as  finished looking him over.

 

“You have a very advanced healing rate, Peter. It’ll take a few days for that drug to get out of your system, but you shouldn’t have a hard time otherwise.”

 

Peter nodded solemnly.

 

There came a heavy silence over the four of them in the room as their eyes drifted to Scott, sleeping on the couch. Claire had never seen anything like it. Too weak to stand on his own, muscles atrophied, skin deathly pale from months, years of no sun. Claire took a few samples, but she guessed his vitamin D levels would be much less than 12 nanograms per milliliter. That was very low, too low to be healthy for anyone.

 

Foggy and Matt had to use a saw to cut the metal binding off of Scott’s eyes.

 

Claire had to cut and remove the stitches where his eyes had been sewn shut.

 

It was not a good day.

* * *

 

 

When Scott woke up clearly and properly, he felt really warm. That was weird. He felt warm. And he was laying on something soft and plush. That was different from the floor. He also felt oddly at peace. Relaxed. Light.

 

Light?

 

He placed his left hand on his temple.

 

No metal.

 

He cautiously probed the rest of his head. Nothing.

 

He placed a hand on top of his closed eyes. He couldn’t feel anything keeping them closed. Just scabs along his upper and lower eyes.

 

He heard some paper rustling, and in spite of himself, his heart jumped.

 

“Hey, kid. Relax. No one’s gonna hurt you.” Came a voice. It was rough sounding, but surprisingly gentle for sounding so exhausted.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“Hell’s Kitchen. My friend Matt’s apartment.”

 

“New York?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Things were quiet for a moment.

 

“You can ask questions. I might not have all the answers, though.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Claire Temple.”

 

“Where’s Peter?”

 

“He went back to his apartment in Queens to change clothes and shower. He was worried about you. Took some convincing on my part of get him to leave.”

“What happened?”

 

“Someone called in a favor to check out where you were being held. Matt and Foggy found you and Peter there. You were the only ones in the facility underneath the state home. They took you to New York. I’m a nurse and I treated you. I think you need to go to a hospital.”

 

“No hospitals.”

 

“That’s what Peter said.”

 

It got quiet again. Scott could hear the gentle breathing of Claire. Scott could almost feel her eyes on him.

 

“Scott. I’ve been honest with you. Can you be honest with me?”

 

Scott was still lying on his back. As much as he wanted to sit up, he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to do so, so he didn’t.

 

“Okay.”

 

“What your full name?”

 

“Scott Summers.”

 

“How  old are you?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. 17, maybe.”

 

“How did this happen to you?”

 

“I have bad luck.”

 

“Do you know who did this?”

 

“No.”

 

Claire didn’t say anything. Scott sighed.

 

“Yeah. Yes. I have a good idea at least.”

 

“Care to explain?”

 

“No one believes me.”

  
  


“I do.”

 

“It’s a long story.”

  
  


“I have time.”

  
  


For some reason, Scott believed her.

 

“My dad was a test pilot in the air force, so he was really into planes. We were flying home from a family vacation in one of his vintage planes when it caught fire. My mother pushed me and my brother out with the only available parachute. But it didn’t really work like it should have has and I hit my head pretty hard on the ground. The part of my brain that controls my mutation was damaged so badly-, I can’t control my powers now. When I was hospitalized i was treated by a geneticist who got my brother Alex adopted to separate us.I was placed in the State Home for Foundlings. When I was a kid the guy who ran the place, who was the same doctor who got my brother adopted, did some-,” 

 

Scott shook his head.

 

“Some bad stuff. He intervened any time anyone came close to adopting me. As I got older I got worse and worse headaches, and one day- just out of the blue, my powers just erupted and completely demolished  a crane. I stopped it from hurt anyone, but all these bystanders thought I tried to kill them and rallied into an angry mob. And it was the same guy who got everyone into a mob. This guy has been meddling in life ever since I was a kid. I didn’t even know it until years later,” Scott finished defeated.

 

“You know his name?”

 

“His real name is Nathaniel Essex. But he calls himself Mr. Sinister.”

  
  


“As in the Sinister Six?”

 

“As in Sinister's Six . No relation to the other group.”

 

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“I had help. From Doctor Charles Xavier.”

 

“The geneticist?”

 

“Yeah. He has this school he uses to help mutants control their powers. School for Gifted children. He picked up on my power signature and took me back to his school. It was good. Nice.”

 

“What happened?”

  
  


“I’m sure you heard about the explosion at the school. There was this girl, a student. My girlfriend. Jean.” 

 

Scott’s voice caught in his throat. He knew that Claire must have picked up on his distress.

 

“She really couldn’t control her mutation. She was a telepath. There was this _ thing  _ inside her head. Everyday it got worse and worse. She just- lost her mind. Starting destroying stuff and lighting fires. I tried to reach her- but I was too late. She caused this huge explosion that destroyed everything. Everyone. When I shut my eyes the building was collapsing around me. When I woke up, I was in there.”

 

There were some light padding of footsteps, the sound of someone writing something down on a piece of paper.

 

“You can open your eyes, Scott.”

 

Scott shook his head. “I can’t. I mean, I can. But I shouldn’t. I shoot these optic blasts out of my eyes of this radiation, energy. I don’t really understand it.”

 

Claire gave a low, belly chuckle of disbelief. “You shoot laser out of your eyes?”

 

Scott smiled. “Yeah. I used to have these glasses the Professor made for me out of ruby-quartz that I was able to wear so I could open my eyes without destroying a city block, but that was a long time ago.”

 

Scott could hear Claire reach out, so he didn’t flinch when she placed a gentle, calloused hand on his shoulder.

 

“Scott, is there anyone I can call?”

 

Scott’s smile disappeared as he remembered what happened at the mansion.

 

“Good question.”

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

“Mr. Stark?”

 

“Hey, kid.”

 

Peter had gotten a ride from Hell’s Kitchen to Queens from Foggy in a beat-up 2004 Corolla to his apartment. When he walked in, his Aunt had nearly blown up. She wouldn’t stop fussing over him. Apparently, Tony had told her that he was spending a semester in Germany and had been sending postcards from “Peter” on a weekly basis. Peter had called him when they got back to New York, and he had told Aunt May he had gotten into a car accident and was being sent home after only four weeks.

 

It was hard believe it had been only a month. Four weeks. It felt longer, ages longer. Too long.

 

Peter had called Ned to let him know he was okay (“No, you don’t need to come over”), took a long overdue shower and changed into fresh clothes. When he jumped out his window and headed up the fire escape to the roof, he felt like a new man. New teenager.

 

After taking in the city for only a few moments, he heard the sounds of Tony’s jets on his suit, which is where they were now.

  
  


“H-hey.”

  
  


“You didn’t stop by. F.R.I.D.A.Y misses you, you know. So does everyone else. Even Vision.”

 

Peter looked down at his feet and shoved his hands into his jacket  pockets, trying to think of something to say.

 

“I-I know. I just… needed some time, I guess. I was worried about Scott.”

 

The suit nodded. “How is he?”

 

Peter shrugged. “Terrible, honesty. He’s doing really shitty, Mr. Stark.”

  
  


“How are you doing?   
  


 

Peter felt rage bubble up in his chest.

 

“Do you even care?”

  
  


“What is that supposed to mean?”

  
  


Peter frowned. “Exactly that. Do you even care? Did you even look for me? I mean- you’re not even here!”

 

The suit dropped down onto the room and the suit opened, pulling itself apart, revealing Tony Stark, wearing one of his signature suits, and most definitely, properly, whole and present.

 

Immediately, Peter felt guilty. It felt like the ferry incident before homecoming all over again. Peter felt all his rage melt away. Without it, Peter felt raw. 

 

He turned around to look off the other edge of the roof.

 

“Sorry.” he muttered.

 

Tony walked up closer to him until he was standing next to Peter. He placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

 

“You shouldn’t be apologizing. I should me. It took too to long to find you. I took too long to find you.”

 

Peter gazed over the edge of the roof, tears prickling in his eyes. He was tired. He shut his eyes and listened to the city.

 

“I forgot what birds sounded like.”

 

Tony hugged him.

 

* * *

 

 

Jessica Jones pulled a flash out of her back pocket and knocked back it’s contents. She screwed the cap back on and shoved it back into her pocket, looking around on the hilltop.

 

They were maybe 60 meters up, not too terribly high, but high enough to stay out view. Around her, birds chirped, and she silently cursed herself for not bring two flasks. Next time.

 

She looked behind her. They had a nice little rag-tag group. There was Matt,of course, using his cane to help him traverse the rocks that were everywhere on the little-used hiking trail. Claire was there too, insistent she go just in case Scott needed medical attention, but Jessica guessed it was just because she liked the kid. Scott had been bouncing between staying with her and Matt for the past few weeks and had made space for himself in her tender, empathetic heart.

 

How poetic.

 

Scott Summers, the 17 year old who claimed he could shoot lasers out of his eyes, was blindly grabbing onto Claire's elbow crook as she led him on the trail, not quite at the stage where he could walk around with a cane by himself yet.

 

Danny was there too, with Colleen, because of course he was with Colleen, they were always together. Danny was hiking along, listening to his music on his IPod from nearly a decade ago. Colleen was walking beside him, her sword strapped to her back, hands in her pockets, eyes glancing from area to area, alert and keen. She was always prepared, always looking, as if someone was going to come out of the woods and start attack them.

 

Danny had met Scott by accident, when Matt was helping him get used to walking around blind outside in Central Park. Scott had tripped over him while he was meditating. He offered to try and help Scott understand and control his powers. Although Scott had been doubtful that he would ever gain control, he accepted the offer. Danny needed to see exactly what Scott’s powers were, since, well, none of them had actually seen exactly what Scott could do. 

 

The spider-kid had joined the group as well, happily chatting away with Scott as they traversed the abandoned trail. Peter was looking better, his advanced healing giving him an edge when compared to Scott, who had struggled to walk for the first few weeks after he had moved in with Matt and Claire.

 

Jessica found it a bit funny. Scott had a room at Claire’s apartment and the couch in Matt’s, splitting his time between the two of them like a kid and his divorced parents. Jessica could tell Scott felt a little guilty, he felt like a burden on the group, but Matt and Claire didn’t mind as much as Scott thought they did. Jessica knew that secretly both Matt and Claire liked having him around, whether they were going to admit it or not.

 

Secretly, Jessica like having him around too. He was clever, he could think on his feet. Most importantly, she could give him a GPS tracker and have him bump into a target and he would slip it onto the person while bumbling around, something Matt had refused to do for her on a consistent basis. He wasn’t the brightest when it came to books, but then again neither was Jessica, but he was good with his hands and could hotwire a car just by feeling. It was nice having him around. He was like a little laser-shooting partner in crime.

 

Scott hanging around them also gave Peter an excuse to stop by more often than he did before. Not just after patrols, but before too. He sometimes spent the weekends in Hell’s Kitchen, going out on patrol with Danny and Matt and helping Jessica with the paperwork she had avoided so much there was a massive stack of it on her desk that needed to be sorted and filled out.

 

When they reached an open clearing, Jessica stopped and turned around.

 

“We’re here. Come on, let’s get this over with. I’m cold.”

 

Scott released his hold on Claire’s elbow as they slowed to a stop. The air smelled fresh, like pine.

 

“You okay, Scott?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Scott’s fingers grazed the edges of the bandages that wrapped around his eyes, just in case he opened his eyes accidently.

 

“We’re here.” Matt said, folding up his cane. “We’re on top a hill in the middle of nowhere. It’s safe to open your eyes.”

 

“Can I film it?” Peter asked hopefully.

 

“No, Peter.” Claire reprimanded gently. “No filming other people using powers. That’s a rule we have.”

 

Jessica snorted. “Since when was that a rule?”

 

“Since now.”

 

Colleen poked Danny, getting his attention. Danny pulled his earbuds out of his ears, still blasting that obscenely loud hip-hop and blinked.

 

“Oh, cool. Hey, can I film this?”

 

* * *

 

 

Claire positioned Scott in the right direction, turning him to face the open clearing, acres and acres of nothing but grass and dirt. They had argued a bit about whether they should it or not, but in the end they decided only Peter would film it, since he could encrypt the files on his phone to make sure only someone with a password could view it.

 

“Okay, Scott. There’s no one out there for you to hit. Ready?”

 

Scott nodded.

 

“Okay. Everyone else?”

 

“Oh, wait.” Peter webbed the phone to a tree, turned on the camera, and pressed record and then flashed a thumbs up at Claire.

 

“Ready.”

 

Claire nodded. “Alright. Go ahead Scott. When you’re ready.” She stepped away, not really sure what she was expecting. She liked Scott, she really did, but she had a hard time believing he could shoot laser out of his eyes. Still, she had seen stranger things before. Way stranger things.

 

Scott suddenly felt nervous right after Claire walked away. He deserved to be nervous. He hadn’t had his eyes open in nearly two years. What if his powers didn’t work? What if Essex had done something that had permanently messed up his eyes?

 

Hands trembling, he reached around the back of his his head and undid the bandages, pulling them off and crumpling them in one hand. He shoved them into his pockets.

 

“There’s no one in front of me?”

  
  


“No, Scott. It’s okay.” Claire called to him, her voice sounding distant.

 

_ You can’t get out of this, Summers _

 

Scott took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

At once, there was a familiar rush. Forgetting about everything else, the simple action of opening his eyes was amazing. He could see where they were at, a hillside near a large mountain. The mountain was really far away, but Scott could see that his beam was already headed towards it. He watched as the ruby-colored concussive beam in front of him shot out of his eyes, plowing through trees, and straight into the mountain. The beam was so forceful he actually felt himself get pushed back just from the search force of it. There was a loud, booming sound that echoed around the hillside.

 

“Holy shit!”

 

Scott shut his eyes, placing his hands over his eyes. As fast as it hard started, it had ended. Scot hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was breathing heavily, but that was more of his nerves than exhaustion.

 

It was silent behind him. Scott whipped around, hands still over his eyes.

 

“Guys?”

 

“Oh my god.” came a hushed whisper. It was Colleen’s voice.

 

“Jesus, Sparky! You didn’t say you could punch holes in mountains!” Jessica said, sounding happier than Scott had ever heard her.

 

“Dude, that was so cool!”  Peter exclaimed.

 

Scott kept his eyes shut as he reached into his pocket and re-wrapped his eyes, securing it into place before speaking.

 

“The Professor told me my strongest blast could destroy a small planet.”

 

Danny cleared his throat. “ Do you know anything else about your powers? Did you do any tests with this ‘professor’?”

 

“Yeah. Yes. He created this visor that I could wear instead of glasses. I could touch the sides of it and control the size of the beam rather than just taking my glasses off. My most powerful eye-blast is a beam four feet across. At 50 feet it has a force of 500 pounds per square foot. The effective range is about 2,000 feet, at which point a 1-inch beam has spread out to 10 feet square, and then has a pressure of .38 pounds per square inch.”

 

“Holy- kid, that’s enough force to puncture a 1-inch carbon-steel plate at a distance of 2 feet.” Danny said. 

 

Scott looked miserable. “I know. That was me trying to control it. I’ve never just let it loose. Not fully, anyways.”

 

Danny sighed. “Okay, well, you said it’s because of a brain injury, right? Maybe we could take an MRI of your brain? See what parts are affected and if can work around it?”

 

“Sure. But I don’t think we should come back here to test things out. The beams don’t really stop until they hit something that can handle the force.”

 

The whole group looked pass Scott at the clearing. The beam was so powerful, it had destroyed all the trees in its path towards the mountain, which had a huge, smoking crater in it.

“Yeah, we can see that.” Jessica said. She looked over at Claire, who was still staring at the mountain.

 

“How far away is that?”

 

“2,000 feet.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Scott stood there awkwardly for a moment, before Claire walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Well, now we know what we’re working with, Scott.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter said, jogging to get closer to Scott “Some seriously cool lasers. This is so awesome!” He suddenly halted. “Ohhhh, this must be how Ned feels.”   
  


“Who?”

 

Before Peter could answer, there was a _ whooshing  _ sound above them. One minute, the sky was empty, the next, a black plane appeared, it’s jets roaring.

 

Scott felt his stomach churn. He could recognize the purr of that engine anywhere.

 

The Blackbird   
  


* * *

 

Colleen’s sword was unsheathed and rested delicately in her grip, balanced with well-practiced poise before Scott could say anything. As the plane landed, Scott raised a hand.

 

“Wait, wait!” he exclaimed, full well knowing that his friends were probably expecting a fight.

 

The plane landed with a thud and Scott winced at the sound. It sounded like no one had been paying attention to the landing gears these years he’s been gone.

 

_ Please put down your weapons. We mean you no harm. _

 

“What the-?” Jessica muttered, putting a hand to her forehead. Scott guessed he wasn’t the only one who had heard that

 

The door to the plane creaked open.

* * *

 

 

Colleen really wasn’t sure what she expected, but  _ this _ was not it.

 

When the door opened and revealed a ramp, a man in a wheelchair came out. He looked old but not too old, young but not too young, tall, but not too tall, short but not too short. He had tired looking eyes and crow’s feet in the corners of them. He was wearing a tweed suit and had a blanket over his lap.

 

Next to him was a short, lithe looking girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face lightly sprayed with freckles. 

 

“Scott?” said the girl with freckles in a hushed whisper.

 

Scott swallowed hard. “Kitty?”

 

“Yes!” the girl, Kitty, exclaimed. She jumped down off the ramp, her excitement barely contained when she moved, Colleen raised her sword in refle, her movements so crisp Scott heard.

 

“It’s okay.” Scott said, his voice heavy with emotion. “It’s okay.” he repeated. Scott tried to figure out which direction Kitty was in. Peter faced him in the right direction.

 

Kitty jogged up to Scott and got less than a foot away from him, looking him up and down, looking as if she had seen a ghost.

 

“You’re here.” she sounded breathless.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I just-,” Kitty choked up. “Can I hug you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

With that, she threw herself on Scott, having to jump on her tiptoes in order to properly wrap her arms around his neck.

 

Colleen watched as Scott hesitatingly put his arms around Kitty, moving slowly but fiercely with intent.

 

Colleen looked at the man in the wheelchair who had a grim look on his face. 

 

“Well, I think we should have a talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter sat outside the mystifying X-plane or whatever Scott had called it. When Professor (“Please, call me Charles”) Xavier said he needed to talk, things sort of erupted in a way only it could with them. Colleen went “Hell no”, Danny said “Sure”, Claire looked like she was going to pass out at the sudden appearance of a plane out of nowhere, and both Matt and Jessica looked like they were going to punch somebody.

 

Peter had decided to dodge that conversation, instead opting to wait outside while everyone else talked inside. He was only out there for a moment alone before Kitty walked off the plane. She noticed Peter standing outside and walked over to join him.

 

“Hey. Hi. I’m Kitty. Katherine, but everyone calls me Kitty.” she extended her hand.

 

“Peter.” 

 

He reached out to shake her hand, but instead of making contact, her hand went through his, phasing through like a ghost. Peter’s hand felt all tingly and he yanked it up in surprise.

 

“Woah!”

 

Kitty sheepishly smiled. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, sometimes I just get excited and I forget to focus. I can phase through stuff.”

 

“Like  _ Casper _ ?”

 

“I was thinking more like _ Danny Phantom _ , but that works too.”

 

Peter laughed. “Okay, now that’s cool.”

 

Kitty smiled modestly and shrugged, bits of her brown hair falling in front of her face with the effort. She blew some piece back.

 

“Yeah. It’s cool now, but when I first got my powers it was really scary. I would fall asleep in bed and wake up in my basement. One time I woke up in the subway! Seriously, I was afraid to close my eyes,” she trailed off as she began to fumble with her hair tie, gathering up the stray pieces and shoving them back together.

 

“So,” Peter said casually. “How long have you known Scott?”

 

Kitty blinked, as if she were surprised by the question.

  
  


“Years. Feels like it’s been forever. I mean- well, did he tell you what happened? With Jean?”

 

Jean. There was that name again.

 

Peter shrugged. “Sort of. All I know was that he was seriously in love with her.”

 

Kitty sighed and looked off towards the mountain, her eyes going glassy with memories.

 

“When I met him, Scott, he was... handsome and good-natured, a confident leader who reeked natural authority, although somewhat standoffish. I was 13. He was 15. The Professor contacted my parents after basement-incident. I was one of the first kids to attend the school. Scott was always nice, but he always kept his distance. Even from Jean, at first. It wasn’t until later I realized that his hesitation when it came to making friends was due to his powers; one misstep and someone could get seriously hurt. He almost killed me once, you know?”

 

“Uh, what?”

 

“Not on purpose! Just, I walked into the danger room- it’s like a gym where we practice-, while Scott was working on his aim. He saw me enter just before he opened his eyes and slammed them shut. I was inches away from getting blasted into next week. I felt really bad, you know? I had never really seen him without his glasses on. It felt like in invasion of privacy or something.  Scott actually consoled me! He said that it was bound to happen at some point, and it might as well happened sooner than later,” 

 

Kitty shook her head and looked down at her shoes.

 

“He consoled me, even though he could have gotten hurt. He’s just that type of guy. And he was also so hopelessly devoted to Jean. They had been interested in one another for quite some time before they even started dating when they were both 15. He was so in love with her, and when Jean gave in to the _ raw power _ inside her, it crushed him. Jean was going nuts. She just  _ lost  _ it. There were earthquakes and fire had broken out-, the building was starting to crumble to bits. Scott tried- we all did- to bring her back to reality, but she was so consumed-,”

 

Kitty trailed off, tears threateningly pricking at the corners of her eyes. She cleared her throat.

 

“But it was too late. Jean, with whatever last bit of herself she had, sacrificed herself. So the power would die with her. The entire school was reduced to rubble, and more than half the other students died. I mean- I lived because I phased through a steel beam that would have killed me otherwise. A lot of people weren’t so lucky. We spent weeks tearing through the ruble, hoping to find survivors- but we never did. I guess we always thought Scott had been buried away with the rest of the building. God- we never found a body but we just-,” 

 

Kitty’s voice quivered, guilt panging in her chest.

 

“One time, when I first arrived at the school and was having trouble controlling my powers, Scott took me to the danger room and practiced with me. We spent hours in there, and hadn’t gotten very far. I was so damn frustrated. I was about ready to give up. Then Scott sat down with me in the middle of the room and told me about his own powers. He should have been able to control them, he said, but a head injury as a kid prevented that. And he lived in fear everyday of what he might do to someone. Can you imagine that? Constantly being afraid of yourself?”

 

Kitty wrapped her arms around herself and sniffled a little.

 

“Scott told me that he someone measure his optic blast power level. Without holding back, the level exceeded 2 gigawatts; that’s more than half a nuclear power plant at its peak performance.  He told me that he had never knowingly used more than a small fraction of his full power. I asked him why he wasn’t afraid. You know what he said to me? He said “Every human has four fundamental truths that they are born with- self-awareness, conscience, independent will and creative imagination. These give us the ultimate freedom... The power to choose, to respond, to change. We choose how to use power. We choose to change.””   
  


She shook her head again.

 

“I asked him “What if there is no choice?”. Wanna know what he said, Peter?”

 

“What?”   
  


“There is always a choice.”

 

_ There is always a choice.  _

 

Kitty looked behind her shoulder at the ship wistfully. 

 

“I wonder if he still believes that.”

  
The sun set over the mountain.  
  
  
  
  
and life went on.

**Author's Note:**

> the end.
> 
> tell me what you think?
> 
> xoxo-  
> me


End file.
